Thoughcrimes: What Memory Can Do
by harrylee94
Summary: Agent Brendan Dean feels like Freya's getting a little close for comfort, but when he goes to Doctor Wells for help he realises they may be closer than he thought.
1. The Castle

Hey guys, this is my first fanfic! I hope it'll go down well. I don't own any of the characters (unfortunately) and and similarities between this and other fanfics are completely unintentional.

**Key:**

(_Brendan's private thoughts_)

_:Brendan's thoughts.: _

_Other people's thoughts._

_**Brendan's projected thoughts.**_

* * *

><p>"Do you see it?"<p>

"I… No I…"

"Concentrate Brendan, and be patient, it will come."

Brendan continued to frown in concentration, his eyes shut, the world closed off from him in a film of darkness, the only thing left were his thoughts. Ever since he'd met Freya McAllister, his thoughts had never truly been his own. Sure it was useful in tight situations, but knowing that she could be watching him at any time was unnerving.

When he'd accidentally told the doctor what he'd thought (rather shouted it at him before being bombarded by continuous streams of noise from the man's stereo) he thought that that would have been the last of it. However, a little over three months later, Michael Wells had told him to meet with him in his office. It almost made him spit out the coffee he'd been drinking when the doctor had suggested this… 'training'.

"Remember the steps." Came the man's voice, destroying the mental wall he had so carefully constructed. "The steps are the only way you can make this work, otherwise even the slightest noise can make your defences crumble."

_:Ah yes, the steps.: _Brendan had been following the steps to the letter, and yet he'd had no progress for the past two hours. It was infuriating, but the scientist was persistent, and wouldn't let him give up so easily.

_:Somewhere I know well.:_

Yet again he imagined his apartment. The peeling wallpaper, the smell of soap wafting in through the open window…

_:Close the window; the room has to be airtight.:_

The window closed under his invisible hands, though he could still feel the fabric of his trousers. He had to think deeper, somewhere he knew better.

"Remember the steps Brendan." The voice was barely there now, almost a whisper as the agent slipped deeper into his subconscious.

_:The steps… The steps… A room, a building, a corridor; somewhere you know well.:_

Suddenly, the apartment was pushed out of his mind, and a tree came, its large branches supporting a large wooden box, a small window covered by a flap of cardboard, misshapen from the rain was facing him, its roof covered in splotched of turf and leaves over a wooden board. The walls were botched, pieces of wood sticking out in several places, but there were no holes, _Dad had made sure of that_. Inside, the walls were covered with various posters; cars, space ships, movies, singers and a few photos of a dog. A golden retriever he'd had since he was a puppy.

_:Jake.:_

Brendan shut his childhood friend out before it could bring the sadness that was always waiting at the end of that path, returning to his old tree house, his refuge from his youth. The smell of freshly cut grass filled his nose, mixed with tobacco as Mr Redrick went by with his new lawnmower, his wooden pipe hanging lazily from his mouth.

_:Build a wall, strong, tall and unmoveable.:_

The ground began to shake, plant pots falling off their stands in nearby gardens as the tree and the ground around it rose. Walls as high as the telegraph poles began manifesting themselves out of strong granite boulders, the stone extending into the ground. Parapets rose up from the tops, watchtowers, cannons, arrow slits. There was also a portcullis and drawbridge, both firmly bolted and secured with chains and barricades. It was his own English castle.

_:Fortify it, make sure it's protected, defend your world.:_

His models of medieval knights, pike men, archers and all the rest sitting quietly in the tin box under the window came to life before his eyes, growing bigger and bigger as they descended the tree, their swords sharp, bows strung, muskets loaded with gunpowder.

_:Hide you memories, they are precious, they are fragile, make them safe.:_

Suddenly, the small room was filled with his memories, his thoughts and ideas. They surrounded him in the shape of mice, field mice. They stared at him, waiting for him to do something. Brendan picked one up, its small black eyes looking curiously at him before it scuttled down his arm and onto his shoulder. It came up to his ear, its cold nose pressing against the warmth of his skin and… _He slammed the door. He didn't care what his father said; he was not going to move…_

The mouse scurried away, out of the door, quickly followed by the other…memories. They descended the tree nimbly and quickly, not one of them falling. As they reached the ground, Brendan realised that they were no longer mice, but rabbits, quickly burrowing underground, the holes disappearing after they went under the turf.

_:Survey your mind, make sure everything is as it should be, everything is behind your wall, all is safe.:_

He climbed to the top of his wall, overlooking the lands surrounding his keep, tumbleweed drifting across the desert of cracking mud, the sky a deep, thick blue with a blazing sun, nothing in its limits save the dust and the blazing heat.

All was as it should be.

"Brendan? Agent Dean?"

Brendan opened his eyes to find Michael with his hand lightly on his shoulder, his eyes showing concern. By the sounds (or rather the lack of them) coming from outside the office, the agent could tell he'd been 'hidden' for some time.

"What? Oh… What time is it?" he asked, trying to come to grips with what he'd done, but would it work?

The doctor gave him a warm smile and looked at his watch; a Rolex, though that wasn't all too surprising. The man was part of a secret project that even he hadn't known about until, well, three months ago. "It's about five to nine. We could keep going if you'd like."

"No thanks. Is Freya still here?" Brendan stretched some muscles, shaking the pins and needles out of them.

"She wouldn't leave. I think she was worried you'd push yourself too hard."

"Did I?"

The doctor put a hand over his mouth, spreading his thumb and forefinger over his cheeks in thought. "I don't know. Since I don't know your limits, I can't really tell if you're limiting yourself or over reaching. Why did you want Freya anyway?"

"I think I got it," the young man grinned, "But I'm not sure. I need to know for certain."

Yet again he was answered with a smile.

Outside the door Brendan heard the all too familiar sounds of footsteps. They were light and quick, the sound they made as the shoes hit the carpet echoing in his mind. It could only be one person.

The door opened to a young woman with long, straightened hair, deep brown eyes and her straight nose.

"You called," she said, sitting down in one of the chairs. The agent smiled at his 'partner', and looked back at his instructor.

"Your agent here thinks he's mastered blocking."

Freya raised her eyebrows. "In a few hours?"

Brendan shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, there's only one way to be sure," she said, turning towards him, her eyes becoming distant.

He was in his castle, his fort, and someone was shouting for him on the parapets. Yet again he climbed the large stone stairs and found himself following the informative point of one of his archers.

Freya was stood outside his fortification, staring up at the structure on its hill, its impenetrable walls, the reflection of the sun in the army's weapons and armour.

_:Impressive Brendan.: _she congratulated, slowly making her way towards the portcullis. _:May I come in?:_

He thought about it for a moment before the doorway was clear, chains and barricade disappearing, to let the woman through.

As she stepped into his fort she grinned, looking up at her environment's owner. _:I think you've done better than the doc!:_

At that, she vanished, going back to reality. Brendan quickly reinforced the entrance before returning with her.

"It's impressive. There would have been no way for me to have gotten through that kind of wall," she explained, the doctor nodding numbly at the observer.

"Then it must be good," he rose from his chair that sounded like it needed oiling (like most of the chairs in this place), "Thank you Freya."

She left quickly with a smile to each of them, grabbing her coat and heading swiftly towards the lifts, obviously eager to get home.

Brendan was about to do the same when Michael stopped him.

"I want to see you tomorrow, same time."

With that, he was dismissed (_God, it's like school all over again_) and he returned to his apartment. He was asleep as soon as he'd hit the bed.


	2. Bad News

Nothing spectacular appeared to happen the next day. Brendan was annoyed that he'd fallen asleep in his suit again, and there was a new case waiting for him on his desk once he'd gotten in, but that wasn't out of the ordinary.

As always, his coffee had been handed to him by his new partner, had a bite of a bagel, and ended up sat with numerous sheets of paper spread over his desk. It was an easy enough case, but, as per usual, he had to go and find the guy.

This took up the best part of the day, forcing him to skip lunch (_I'll have a big dinner)_. He could feel the eyes on the back of his neck as Freya watched him put the man in an interrogation room. It always gave him a feeling of security, knowing she was there, knowing she was watching his back in case anything went wrong.

"I got this one," she said as he finished closing the door. He turned to find her leaning against the wall, head tilted to one side as she looked calmly towards him.

"I thought it was my turn," Brendan said, crossing his arms.

"It was, but you take too long. And if you do take this one, you won't make it on time for the doc's meeting."

_:I was kind of counting on that.:_

He waited for her to reply, but soon realised he still had his defences up. "I was kind of counting on that," he repeated, making a mental note to leave his mind open the next time they spoke.

"Well, I wouldn't want to go either, but I'm not the one who can suspend you for a month."

_:A month?:_

"See ya later Frey," he said, walking quickly towards the offices. He couldn't help but notice the smug look she had on her face as he passed, but dismissed it quickly (_I'll get her back later_), looking at his watch. Six fifteen. He was late.

Brendan knocked lightly on the glass door before entering.

"Ah! Mister Dean. So glad you decided to join me,"

He cringed at how the sentence was force at him, sitting down in the chair opposite the desk. As he looked around, he noticed there were a few more items in the room than there were previously. They seemed to be some form of complex, possibly medical machinery, though he had no idea as to what they were for or why they were there, but he had a sneaking suspicion.

"What's with all this stuff then?" he asked, waving in their general direction.

Doctor Wells leaned forward onto his desk, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth in contemplation. "When you… For lack of a better word, remember, memorise things, what is it like?"

The agent frowned at the question, ignoring the fact that the man hadn't answered his (_He'll probably get to it later_). "What do you mean?"

"When you are memorising something, what does it feel like? When I'm memorising something, it feels like I'm making a new file, or like I'm creating a new bar or note in a piece of music."

Brendan nodded slowly in understanding. "It's like…" he searched for the right words. "It's like I'm fishing. When I need to keep a piece of information in my mind, I catch a fish." He tried to think of a way to continue the strange metaphor. "I keep it, alive, in a bucket of water and I take it home, where I have an aquarium, and I put it in there."

The doctor frowned. "So you have an aquarium of memories in your mind."

"Yeah. Kind-of. If I need to remember it, I just have to find it in there." (_God that sounds awful! Aquarium? What will you think of next?_).

Michael was nodding, obviously interested by this strange image. "So it's like pulling things from around you and locking them in a safe."

"Yeah." (_Even he can think of a better explanation than you! And you call yourself NSA._)

The doctor looked like he was about to say something, but paused, considering his words carefully. "Have you ever considered putting them back, or maybe, jumping in the river?"

The question shocked him, making him blink and stumble for words. Put them back? Jump in? "What?"

"You, my friend, are like, in some ways, a mobile phone."

Frowning yet again, Brendan nodded. He decided not to ask why he was being compared to the object.

"You capture and store images, sounds, smells and so on, viewing them privately in your mind. The only other person you could share these with is Freya."

Another nod. He still wasn't too sure where this was going.

"One thing a phone can do, at least the new ones anyway, is send these images and information to other places, or take in a new one. Like a network."

_Click_

"Are you saying that I…"

"Maybe. That's why I needed these machines. It's the only way I'll be sure."

"If that's the case, then why hasn't it happened before now?"

The doctor took in a deep breath, preparing for a long explanation. "Your mind is far more complex that Freya's. Hormones focused, or scrambled depending on the way you look at it, her mind when she was in high school, unlocking neuron pathways, which is one of the reasons why this has happened to her. It would have come as quite a shock. You probably had a similar experience when you first discovered you could remember anything you were shown."

(_This guy is good_) When he was four, he could remember drawing a picture of his home in kindergarten. All the other children had stick men for their families and matchbox houses, a typical toddler drawing. His was a tall two story building with a porch, five windows (one or two open with curtains blowing through), the path leading up to it in its curved fashion, chimney, and a group of people sat outside eating on a red and white chequered blanket eating sandwiches as a yellow dog was chasing after a ball that one of them had thrown. Sure, it wasn't exactly a masterpiece, but everything was where it should have been, even the tap on the side of the wall. It had been a bit worrying that he could do that. He was so scared of it in fact that he refused to go out of his room for a week.

"Freya's has progressed as far as she can with her ability, though she still has to learn how to control it. However, unlike Freya, you were able to control this ability, which is why it took you only a fraction of the time it would normally take to build a mental wall, and you stopped it from progressing any further, into chaos."

Brendan read between the lines. "Wouldn't that put a little too much pressure on you? And wouldn't I go insane? I don't think I'm cut out for that… that noise, being a part of my life."

"No, you won't. You have more control over your thoughts than Freya did when she discovered her gift, but just as a precaution, we'll do this at my facility. We don't even have to do the tests until we're there if you'd like."

The thought of being hooked up to any of those instruments wasn't very inviting. "Why? Why do I have to do this at all? Can't I just go on like I always have?"

"Because if you don't do this and you have the ability I think you do, your barriers won't hold it back. Your thoughts will spill into others and vice versa. You won't just go insane; you'll go into a catatonic state and damage not just your own mind but others as well. If you don't learn how to control this now while it's still buried, then we have no chance." The man's voice had increased in pitch as he'd progressed, making him glad the room was almost sound proof.

Brendan was speechless. Was he really that much of a danger to everyone?

Michael sighed, calming himself down. "Your mind is more powerful than you know. I'm just glad discovered this before it was too late."

The agent rubbed a hand over his face. (_I really don't have a choice do I._) "When would I have to go?"

"As soon as possible. Tomorrow with any luck."

"And Freya?"

"She'll have to come with us. She'll be able to help you get through this."

Brendan nodded. "I'll tell her." He started to leave. "What about Harper?"

"I'll deal with that. You need to see Freya," the man smiled at him, his eyes portraying the sadness of a distant memory.


	3. Away From House And Home

As he'd thought, Brendan found Freya at her desk. The confession had obviously been easy enough to get from the convict. Before he reached her, he opened his mind, letting her know he was there.

"Brendan! You came back early," she smiled her warm, open smile at him as she turned to face him until she noticed his expression. "What is it?"

"I need to tell you something." _:In private.:_

She nodded and motioned to a chair, which he took nervously.

"You know I've got this memory. The really good memory."

Another nod.

"Well…" _:It's more than you think.:_

She frowned, opening her mouth to ask a question.

_:I might be like you.:_

He watched her stumble over her own thoughts, the conflicts in her mind clearly showing in her face. The joy of not being alone, the fear of how he'd react, confusion about why this was happening.

"The doc wants us to take a few days off with him. So I don't have to think so much," _:He said he'd take me to his facility, do a few tests, make sure everything was okay. He wants you to come with us so you could help.:_

She smiled again. "Sure. What for?"

"He said we've been working too hard, need to take a break or something." _:I could be dangerous Freya. If I don't do this soon, and I really am like you, then I could hurt people.:_

The observer's face paled, but she continued to wear the smile. "When do we leave?"

"I don't know yet, he's got to sort it out with Harper," _:Tomorrow, don't know what time. Doc said it had to be soon, just in case.:_

"Well, we'll find out later." She stood to indicate the conversation was over, though her eyes showed that she wished it wasn't.

_:God I hope so.:_

* * *

><p>It was some time after lunch when they arrived at the strange farm. It seemed abandoned at first glance, but from the tyre tracks outside, the faint light coming from some of the windows and a slight whirring sound of a generator, Brendan could tell the place was being lived in.<p>

"Nice place," he said, exiting the car. He watched Freya as she left her door open, moving slowly towards the building, a look of acceptance and calm in her eyes.

As the three went inside with their luggage, they were met by a team of men and women in white lab coats, all smiling and welcoming the doctor and Freya warmly, then turning their attention to him in an equally friendly manor. It made the agent feel uncomfortable, but he quickly followed the pair.

Eventually, they came to a small room with a single bed next to the window.

"This will be your room Brendan. I know it's small, but it's the best we could do on short notice." Michael explained letting the other man put his things inside. "We'll have to start those tests soon, but we'd better get some food first."

Brendan smiled wryly and continued to follow the doctor, realising that Freya was no longer with them.

"She's going to meet us in the mess, she just needed to put her things away."

(_How does he do that?_)

Just as Michael had said, Freya joined them at lunch, smiling at anyone who passed their table in between mouthfuls of her spicy chicken wrap and orange juice. It was nice to see her so at home in this strange environment, and it made Brendan relax a bit more.

Once they had finished their food, he was led to a large room that looked somewhat like a stable, though the stalls themselves had been dismantled and moved to the other end. At that moment, there was a set of chairs, a heart monitor, a machine that read brain waves and one of the female scientists waiting patiently reading a book. Chekhov.

He suddenly felt nervous and wasn't sure whether he wanted to do this.

"Brendan, you'll be fine," he felt Freya's hand on his arm, but was unable to turn away from the dreaded machines. "They know what they're doing, just relax."

He was led over to the nearest chair and told to remove his jacket and shirt. Doing as he was told, he shivered as several ice-cold pads were placed in various places over his chest and around his head. As the machines were turned on, he felt like he was some kind of light bulb, wired up to several batteries.

"Now, Mister Dean, I'd like you to remember the first time you used your memory," The female scientist instructed, putting her book under her chair.

Brendan closed his eyes. _The paint was running through his fingers as he tried to put it back in its pot, covering them in its bright red colour. One of the helpers notice and pull him away, wiping his hands off with their apron and giving him a box of crayons instead._

"_Brendan!" She said, "What am I going to do with you? Now you get on and draw your house like the others, okay?"_

_He nodded, looking at the box in his small hand. He lay down on his front on the carpeted floor, putting his paper on top of a colouring book so it wouldn't break._

_He remembered the house. The windows, the porch, that tap on the wall. He remembered the picnic he had last week, playing fetch with Jake and he watched his hands as they drew what he saw. It was the best he could do with crayons, and he'd done it as quickly as possible so he could go back to the sand box, but something wasn't right._

_As he stood up, he realised how complex his was compared to everyone else's._

"_Miss Grace. Miss Grace!" He cried, trying to find the carer. She appeared quickly from around the corner, eyes full of concern. _

"_What is it Bren? Is that your drawing? May I see it?" she held out her hand as she knelt before the fretting boy._

"_Am I a… A freak?" he asked as he handed it over, eyes filling with tears._

"_What? Why would you say something like…" she looked at the picture, "Oh my."_

_Brendan burst into tears. "I am a freak! I'm so sorry Miss Grace! I didn't mean to…"_

"_Did you draw this?" she asked. He nodded. "You're not a freak. Come here." She held out her arms and her strong, soft arms surrounded Brendan as he cried deeply into her apron._

As he opened his eyes, Brendan realised they were beginning to fill, rubbing them quickly to stop them from overflowing. He noticed Freya was holding his hand, and he squeezed it, showing her he was all right. She smiled at him, but didn't let go.

_:Did you tell them?:_

She nodded.

"Interesting," the scientist wrote something on the pad she was now holding.

Michael leaned forwards in his chair. "What did you do with your memory after this?"

"I um…" Brendan blinked away the remaining tears and looked at the doctor, "I didn't use it in things like that. I stopped drawing from memory, but my imagination was good too, so I just drew box house and stickmen, like everyone else. When I got to school, I only used it for schoolwork, like tests, the rest of the time I pretended I was average kid, playing soccer and football with the other boys."

"So you suppressed it."

"I suppose you could say that."

More scribbling. The woman looked up from her pad. "Do you get headaches frequently, migraines, a sleeping disorder?"

"All of the above." He grumbled. "But I think that's work related." _:Most of the time.:_ "Most of the time anyway."

Doctor Wells looked at him sharply. "When? How frequently?"

"It started after I got into the NSA. At first I thought it was because of the stress, but it wasn't often enough to be of much concern. They became more and more frequent over the years. It's gotten worse since I stared working with Freya." _:Sorry I didn't tell you sooner.:_

No one spoke for a few moments, the three of them staring at Brendan, making him shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Sir, he's exactly the same as…"

"I know Jane."

More silence.

"Exactly the same as who doc?" Brendan asked, afraid to know the answer, but also knowing he had to.

Michael leaned back, breathing out slowly. "Two years ago, we met someone like you. His name was George White. He was a market salesman. Like you, he had eidetic memory, but he'd suppressed it as a child. When we found him, he was a wreck, always covering his ears, sending out images of his family and work, unable to sleep at night and taking far too many paracetamol for his own health because of the constant migraines. He spent as much time away from home as possible, saying his daughter made him sick. Turns out she was a telepath, though be it a very weak one. He'd managed to break his leg while carrying wooden crates from a truck, so we had to take him to a hospital before bringing him here. They had to keep him overnight because of how bad a state he was in." He rubbed his face. "By morning, he had reached a catatonic state, and everyone in the surrounding area began to be affected by his mind games. That night, he was dead, and those that had surrounded him in his final hours were either in comas or mentally damaged in some way."

Brendan physically paled. _:I would have become that?:_

"As I said before, we were lucky we got to you so soon, and we can stop that from happening again, but you must co-operate. Do you understand?"

The man nodded, not trusting his voice to answer.

"Good. Well, now that we've got the initial tests our of the way, we'd better get on with this."


	4. Awakening

It had been two days since he'd arrived, and there was still no progression. They'd tried the cards, the boxing; he even wore the curoscope thing, but nothing seemed to be working. It was just one long line of failures, and it was making him anxious.

It was lunchtime, and he'd picked up a plate of lasagne, its cheesy taste filling his mouth as he ate. He remembered when his mother used to make it, the smell would waft from the kitchen all the way up to his bedroom where he'd sit, daydreaming about the delicious meal.

"Wow, it must have been really nice." Freya smiled at him as she sat down next to him, her plate also covered in the heavenly meal.

"Hey." Brendan said quietly, stuffing another forkful into his mouth. _:You know what they've got in store for me next?:_

She shook her head, "I think they've run out of ideas. They've only done thins a few times before."

_:Oh that's _real_ comforting.:_

"Hey, it's not my fault. Besides, all I did to get here was go to the prom and go to a loon bin for eight years." She smiled again and began to dig into her food.

_:I never went to my prom.:_

She choked on her food. "Never went to…?"

He finished his mouthful. "Nah. It was too much hassle, plus all the girls were taken. Thought I'd rather stay at home than be one of the weirdoes standing on the sidelines."

Freya stared at him. "Have you ever had a girl friend?"

"Yeah, one or two, but it never got very serious. The longest lasted four months!" he laughed at the memory of the brunet in the black dress leaving him on a park bench, thinking she'd gotten the upper hand. He put his fork down and wiped away the sauce around his mouth with his thumb.

"That's gotta be it," she muttered, staring off into nothing.

"What? Gotta be wha…?"

Suddenly, he found himself in a lip lock, blood rushing to his cheeks, having one of the biggest adrenaline rushes of his life.

_:Freya? What the hell are you doing?:_

_What does it feel like I'm doing?_

_:It feels like… Wait a sec, did I just…:_

_It worked! Oh my God it actually worked!_

_:What? Freya? What's going on?:_

The woman removed herself from his mouth and stared excitedly into his eyes. "Hormones! When I went to prom I had a huge rush of hormones! I only got my abilities after that. The only time you get that kind of rush…" _is when you come in contact with someone you care about._

"You're a genius!" he exclaimed, smiling widely at her.

_Whoa! Glad they're finally…_

_What just happened?_

_Aw! They look so cute together!_

_Did that really just…_

_What's wrong with him?_

Brendan grabbed his ears, his smile gone. It was like he was back in the doctor's office again with that tape playing. Too many voices!

"Block guys." Freya said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Eventually it stopped, and the only thing he could hear was the shuffling of feet, the clutter of cutlery on plates and the soothing thoughts of Freya.

_It's okay, they've stopped, and you don't have to cover your ears any more._

Slowly, he removed his hands, putting them on the table and taking a deep breath. It was a good job he'd finished his lasagne, because he didn't feel very hungry any more.

"I think I'd better leave." _:Don't worry, I'm just going to my room.:_

She smiled. _I'll see you later._

* * *

><p>"So, these tests. They're the same ones as before right?"<p>

"Yes, exactly the same, except we'll be able to make quicker progress this time."

Brendan stared at the back of the card.

_Square._

"Square."

Michael flipped the card over. It was a triangle.

"You have to do more than just listen, you have to see it through my eyes." He picked up another card.

_Circle._

He ignored the word being pushed into his ears and stared at the man in front of him. An image began to form in the back of his mind.

_Circle._

It was an image of a star.

_Circle._

"A star."

The card was flipped. He was right. He grinned and looked at Freya who was stood in the corner smiling back.

"Okay. Now keep going." Another card was taken.

This went on for the next hour, his ability to name the card increased in speed and clarity. More people were brought into the room to see how he could stand the extra noise. It barely fazed him at all. Just like with his memories, he was able to block them out, focusing souly on Michael. Yet more people came, and he was given more targets, having to see the cards through more than one persons eyes. It took some time for him to adapt, but it felt easy once he knew how. Sometimes he named it before they even knew what they were looking at.

By the end of the session, Brendan felt exhilarated, pleased with himself that he'd done so well, silently thanking Freya for supporting him when things got a bit rough.

"Mister Dean," Jane, the female scientist from before, approached him, "You've done exceedingly well, but we haven't finished quite yet. We'll start on the next stage tomorrow."

He smiled at her as she left, but returned his attention back to the doctor.

"So?" he asked.

"I think you should call it a day Brendan, we don't want to be wasting all that energy all at once do we."

"No." He began to move towards the door, but turned quickly as he remembered something. "You know you said that George had stayed away from home because of his daughter."

"Yes."

"Is it possible that, if two telepaths, Freya and I for example, were in close proximity, our abilities would push the other's to become stronger?"

The doctor thought about it for a moment. "I suppose it's possible. Actually, it's very probable. From what you explained of when you first came into contact with her sounds like what you're saying is true. And if this was the reason why George tried to keep such a distance from his family, I think it's probably as good an assumption as any. We might have to look into that."

"Thanks doc." Brendan left the room and headed to his own, head filled with all that had happened that day, thoughts going through each detail, his mind lingering around that moment during lunch, the moment where he felt… alive.

_You know, you're ten years older than me._

_:Didn't stop you did it?:_

He heard the snigger through his door and opened it to find her waiting for him.

"Didn't stop you either." She grinned at him, backing towards his bed.

Brendan stepped inside and closed the door behind him.


	5. The Second Step

Waking up for the first time next to a woman was a lot more uncomfortable than Brendan thought it would be. They had to make do with the single bed or the floor, and since neither had very much room, nothing much had happened. They kissed, a lot, they got undressed, but that was about it. The room was too small for any extra curricular activities, which, in a way, was a good thing. It was going way too fast.

Freya moaned and rolled over, off of the small bed, making the room shake momentarily. Brendan couldn't help but snigger.

"'S not funny," she moaned, picking herself off the floor.

"Yes it is." _:And you know it.:_ He pictured the scene that had just unfolded in his mind, watching the corners of her beautiful mouth curl up.

_Shut up._

He continued to smile as he looked at his watch he'd left on the windowsill.

"It's that early huh?" she asked, using her own mind tricks.

"Yep, five am." _:I never get up this early. Even on a work day.:_

Freya decided not to answer that and began to put her shirt on. Brendan soon followed suet, and they exited the room, fully dressed and with no evidence that anything had happened.

Finding no one in the mess hall, they went into the kitchen to grab something quick to eat and headed out of the building towards the fields. They stopped next to a fence and watched the sun as it rose over the horizon, thinking of nothing but of its splendour.

They lost track of time, and before they knew it, the usual buzz of lucid minds began to creep into their thoughts. There was one, however, that seemed panicked.

"Do you think Michael ever really stops worrying about us?" Freya asked, turning to look at her partner.

"No, and I don't think he ever will." The agent turned to look at the building, searching for the one pattern that was more active than the rest. He could see that the doctor was in his bedroom, now in the corridor, the kitchen.

_**Slow down doc.**_

_Brendan? Is that you? _The buzzing of his thoughts slowed considerably.

"Did I…"

"Just go with it Brendan." Freya said, taking his hand, though she was equally as shocked as he was.

_**Yeah, it's me.**_

_Where are you? How are you doing this?_

_**Don't ask, I just wanted to talk, so… I'm with Freya. We got up early, so we went out. We're at the fence where we came in through the fields.**_

_Well this is just incredible! I'll meet you there._

Brendan broke the connection and blinked. "Did I really just do that?"

"Yes, you really did." The grip around his hand tightened for a second as she squeezed it before letting it fall to his side.

It didn't take long for the lead scientist to find them. He seemed a little out of breath, though considering he'd been running throughout the building looking for them it wasn't a surprise.

"Brendan… Freya, how are you… this morning?" he panted, slicking his hair back with his sweaty hand. "Actually, don't answer that."

They waited for him to catch his breath, not saying a word, just listening to the birds and the steady buzz of everyone's thoughts.

"So you're a projector as well," the doctor stated once his breath had returned to him, "very interesting, though not altogether unexpected."

Brendan nodded. Like he'd been told before, George White had been able to project, and he was supposed to be some kind of prodigy.

"Well, this puts a whole new perspective on things." Michael scratched absently above his ear. He pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, along with a stub of a pencil and wrote down a few notes. "I think our stay may be longer than I anticipated."

* * *

><p>As expected, Harper didn't take too lightly to the idea that his two best operatives wouldn't be back for almost another week, but he accepted it, knowing he would be able to do anything anyway. Brendan couldn't help but laugh when he heard the shouts coming through the earpiece that was held several inches away from Michael's face.<p>

Once the call was made, the NSA agent was given a new task.

"Why do I have the cards?" he asked, raising his hand in which the pile lay.

"We need to see if you can project images as well as words. I want you to do what you did before, but send the image, not your voice, into my mind."

He flipped the top card. "Are you sure this is safe doc?"

"As sure as I an be."

Brendan nodded numbly and looked at the shape in the card. It was a square. As he closed his eyes, he thought of what he'd done before, how he'd searched for the doctor's mind and made a connection. He found it again, rebinding the link and sent the image towards the other man.

"A square."

He opened his eyes to find the doctor staring at him. "Sorry?"

"Is it a square?"

He flipped the card to show he'd received the correct image.

Both men smiled and Brendan continued through the pack. Like with when he was reading minds, he had to take it step by step, moving from closed eyes, to open, to looking elsewhere, having more than one person in the room and so on. Eventually it became a game. Who was going to get the image next? What would it be?

It took him the better part of two days to master this new ability as he continued to discover the extents to what he could send. Anything he could remember, he could project into another's mind. The smell of citrus, the taste of his favourite coffee (unfortunately for those who detested it), the feel of silk on the skin, the sound of dogs barking, the feelings he had when he broke his leg. The list went on.

By the end of the third day, they had exhausted the list of possibilities, and Brendan escaped their all too eager hands. He'd decided to sit and watch the sunset, its red light giving an eerie feel to the long grass in front of him, his back supported by one of the fence's supports. He felt the worried thoughts of the scientists tickling the back of his mind before he completely shut them out, listening only to the breeze whistling through the fields.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Brendan turned to find Freya stood leaning on the fence next to him, her deep eyes staring into his. "I don't have to read your mind just to know what you'll do next. Besides, how could I with you keeping that wall up all the time?"

He grinned. "I'm sorry if I stole your steam in there," he reached out for her hand, "I can't help what I am any more than you."

She squeezed. "I don't envy you. You're like a shiny new toy, and everyone wants to 'play' with you. It's nice being in the background for once." _Though I do think it's a little unfair that you can do those other things._

_:I'm sure you'd be able to do them. You've just never tried.:_

Her eyes light up at the thought and she climbed under the railing to sit next to her friend, snuggling under his arm to watch the last of the sun's rays sink beneath the edge of their sight.


	6. Home

The rest of the week passed fairly quickly, both Brendan's and Freya's abilities tested again and again, the results confirming what the agent had assumed. When the pair were together or in close proximity to one another, their abilities increased dramatically; they were able to see and hear what people were thinking almost five hundred meters away, their accuracy of telepathy increased, and they were able to share information over long distances. Once separated, their skills remained at the same level for almost an hour, but it began to decrease in power afterwards.

Since they could do nothing more the scientists could do for them, Michael decided it was about time that they returned to the NSA before Harper started to scream down the phone.

The journey back was made in silence, or at least that's what the doctor thought. The two telepaths had a deep discussion, Freya giving tips on how to shut everyone out, Brendan showing her how to 'push' thoughts into others and a brief talk about their 'almost night' as Freya called it.

Brendan was let out of the car briefly to put his case in his apartment and to change into more suitable clothes for work, his scrunched up trousers and grass stained shirt far from appropriate, followed by another similar stop for Freya before they arrived at the office.

It was lunch break when they entered the building, so most of the occupants were out searching for hot dog stands and bagel shops, meaning the trio were able to get up to their floor relatively undisturbed. Harper, of course, was waiting for them in his office.

"You took your God damn time. This place has been chaos without you!" he exclaimed, flinging his notes across the table as he stood to glare at them.

"We couldn't really be rushed Jon." The doctor explained.

"Do you really expect me to believe that… _he_, is what you tell me he is?" the director pointed at Brendan.

Michael nodded.

"Alright," he looked at his agent, "what am I thinking about?"

_Triple homicide in…_

"Triple homicide in the west side. Two males one female, all with the same gunshot wounds… 50 cal? And the youngest male is the son of one of the company owners on that side of town, Jerry Fraud I believe." Brendan said, pretending to glance briefly at the desk. If he didn't want to believe it, he didn't have to.

"How…? You guessed didn't you."

He raised his hands. "Guilty as charged sir."

The man grinned deviously. _Mind reader my ass. _"Why exactly did you tell me he was…"

"I needed to get away from work for a bit sir, but the doc wouldn't let me go alone so he and Freya came with me. In case I started working when I shouldn't," the agent swiftly interrupted, causing Harper to turn back quickly "I had to ask the doc to give you some reason to let me go. You'd never have let me… us take such a long time off if he hadn't."

The director didn't look convinced.

"You have been telling him to get some rest Jon," Michael explained, catching on quickly, "And he really needed that week."

Harper's face softened, and he nodded thoughtfully. "Well, just don't go using that kind of excuse again." _It's bad enough having one of them around… _He cringed. _She heard that didn't she._

"Yes I did sir." Freya smiled.

Brendan found it overwhelmingly difficult to keep his expression under control, laughter ready to stream from his mouth.

"Well… It's a good thing you two are back. We were having a bit of trouble on our trip homicide," he began to sit down, but paused, "Well? This case isn't gonna solve itself!"

They filed quickly out of the room.

"Why aren't we telling him?" Freya asked as soon as they'd entered Michael's office.

"It's not that we can't trust him, it's just that he can't handle it at the moment. It wasn't that long ago when he discovered telepathy was real, let alone the fact that he was going to have one as an operative. I don't think he's ready to know he's got two, even if it's someone he's known for years," the doctor explained, leaning on his desk. "So for now, we all just went out of the city for a while to rest up."

She nodded and made her way to her cubicle.

"Oh and Brendan… don't forget this." Michael held out his sunglasses that he'd left there before going to his facility. _If anything starts happening that you can't explain, I want you to tell me._

"Thanks doc," he said, leaving the room. _**You mean anything like being able to hear other people's thoughts? You'll be the first to know.**_

As he walked back to his desk, he noticed Freya's eyes following him.

_:What?:_

_Exactly. What?_

_:Well, we've got a case to solve, so I suppose it's back to normal.:_

_But it's not normal._

Neither of them thought for a moment, examining their slightly dusty desks.

_Did you hear what Harper said earlier?_

_:What? About this place being chaos without us?:_

_Yeah._

_:I wouldn't ask about it. He'd probably deny it ever happened.:_

* * *

><p>Yes! Finally! It took forever to write this, but it was worth it! I hope you guys liked it, and if you leave a comment be as brutal as you want, I need to improve on my writing skills and your imput would really help!<p>

I'll write a sequel I think, this one seems a bit too unfinished to end it like that, but it may be a few weeks.

Can't wait to continue this, and I'll see you next time!


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